Mighty Morphing Gunslinger Girls!
by Sheo Darren
Summary: A parody of Power Rangers. With Gunslinger Girl characters. Read. Review. Laugh aloud. Attempt to kill Author. Go ahead. You know you want to. Episode One: Day of the Dumpster!
1. Preview

American (oh no!) astronauts have unwittingly released the evil space separatist bomber Franca and her equally evil space separatist bomber husband Franco!

"Ah! After 10,000 years, we're free!"

They and their gaggle of goons turned towards the blue-white ball in the sky.

"It's time to conquer Earth!"

**  
**Inside the Command Center, the interdimensional being trapped in a time warp known as Lorenzordon commanded his mechanical assistant, "Bianchi! Franca and Franco has escaped! Recruit a team of Italian girls with attitude!"

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**_Thus begins…_

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****MIGHTY MORPHING GUNSLINGER GIRLS**

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**(Subtitles appear over the faces of actresses and actors as the tune of "Go, go, Gunslinger Girls! Go, go, Gunslinger Girls! New Mighty Morphing Gunslinger Girls!" plays.)

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**_Starring:_

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Triela** as Mortal Sin Red Ranger!

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Henrietta** as Yellow Brick Road Ranger!

**Freda Claes Johansson** as Black Arachnia Ranger!

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Angelina** as Bubblegum Pink Ranger!

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Rico** as Deep Blue Ranger!

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Lorenzo** as Lorenzordon!

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Bianchi** as Bianchi Cinque!

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Franca** as An Evil Space Version Of Herself!

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Franco** as An Evil Space Version Of Himself!

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The Padania Republic Faction** as Token Redshirts!

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Pinocchio** as Franco and Franca's Lone Competent Underling– therefore making him the archenemy of Triela/Red Ranger, the result of which are epic battles and possibly a torrid love affair, because the Author loves love-hate relationships a la Mr. & Mrs. Smith!

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**_Also starring!_

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Elsa de Sica** as Masked Rider Elsa! Now, why **isn't** she the sixth Ranger, you ask? Because the Author **luvs** her!

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Pia** as the Power Ranger Hunter! The sixth Ranger! And **unlike** in the game, she will become a good guy and **survive**! Though she**still** gets a building dropped on her head!

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Victor Hartman** as Triela's Hapless Manager! (Just **wait** until the first chapter comes out! Triela's job is an eye-popper!)

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Frederick Koch** (OC owned by Panzer IV) as An Admirer Of Triela! Also plays the role of Bulk, albeit a highly-**capable** Bulk!

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Marc**(OC owned by Colonel Marksman) as Yet Another Admirer Of Triela! Also plays the role of Skulk, albeit an **even more** incapable Skulk!

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Emilio** as Rico's Love Interest!

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**(Yes, you just **know** he's going to get kidnapped and held hostage! Or, paralleling the canon series, killed! But you know how these Tokusatsu series work! He'll get turned into a support character! Probably a Space Sheriff like Shaider!! Hmmm! Space Sheriff Meir! Sounds nice!)

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**[Meir OC owned by Nachtsider!

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**And the **Section Two Handlers** as…

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ZORDS!!!**

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**Yes, the Author **knows** it makes absolutely **no** sense to have the Handlers as Zords! Not mention **how** the Hell they are going to **combine**! And form! **DEVASTATOR!!!**

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**Oh, wait. Wrong weekend morning kiddy series…

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**_**Written by**_** Sheo Darren, **_**with the assistance of**_**Tommygunner70**

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**_**Special Effects and All The Menial Stuff by**_** Kyon**

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**(With far better production values than Il Teatrino's first few episodes! We promise you a good-looking P90 to mow down Space Padania with!)

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**_**Ultra Directed by**_** Suzumiya Haruhi**

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**_**Rated**_** "I" For "Immature"**

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Animated Violins**

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Animated Bush And Gore**

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**_**Content Rated By**_** SERB**

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Yes, the Author stole the above joke from Culture Crash Comics.**

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**A stupefied Ehud Barrohk stared at the Gunslinger Girls Preview. He glanced at the equally dismayed Luke.

"I thought you **killed** him already?"

Nearby, Jeremy Colt fumbles for his aspirin bottle. "Chloe, I have a headache…"


	2. Episode One: Day of the Dumpster

**Episode 01**

**Day of the Dumpster**

* * *

**  
**A red light blinked out from the reddish sands of Mars.

"Hey, look at that!"

"Let's go"

Two American astronauts (who rode to Mars aboard a leaky Space Shuttle– and then landed the thing in a No Parking Zone; trust Terragen life forms to be illiterate with reading intergalactic signs. No wonder the Galactics bulldozed Earth in another dimension to make way for a space superhighway. Stupid Micronians…) discover, of all things–

"It looks like a giant space dumpster."

Strange if one considered **how** they knew the difference of a **space** dumpster from any other dumpster. Or **what** a space dumpster **is**.

Of course they opened it. (How they knew the method to do so remained a mystery.) They even fell on their butts while lifting the lid off. The klutzes.

Glowing balls burst out of the dumpster. The balls materialized into a gaggle of the worst alien life forms ever to plague the Milky Way Galaxy. That's right. They were **Space Padania**!

**Christiano** the Technician!

**Bruno** the Fixer!

**Vicenzo** the Assistant Fixer!

And **Beldini** the Mercenary!

"All right!" Bruno exclaimed. "We're out!"

He waddled over to the Space Dumspter. "Oh, Franca!" he yelled into its depths. Franco! Wake up! Wake up! We're free!"

And out emerged half of the criminal duo most feared by the Galaxy: **Franca** the Evil Space Bomberess!

"Let me help you, Your Evilness," Vicenzo energetically offered as he helped his liege lady out of her prison.

"Arh!" Franca snapped. "You made me step into a puddle, you nit wit!"

Also proof that Mars **does** have liquid water.

"It's good to be free after ten thousand years," Christiano observed as Franca's husband **Franco** clambered out of the Dumpster.

Franca produced a bomb. Franco stuck detonators on it. The Space Dumpster made for good Chinese New Year firecrackers.

The pair of evil overlords laughed at the panicking astronauts. "Don't leave!" Franca urged. "You'll miss our coming out party!"

"That's when we destroy the nearest planet!" Franco sniggered.

With evil laughter they directed their covetous gazes at the blue-white marble in the sky that was Earth.

**  
**Inside the Tower of Evil on the Moon, Franca cackled as she withdrew from her telescope. "Yes, I like it! Christiano!" she ordered the Technician browsing dusty equipment. "We're making **Padania Patrollers**!"

"Yes, my Queen!"

"I'll lead them down," Beldini spoke up, "And make Earth yours!"

Franco added his laughter to Franca's.

**  
**In the city known as Caput Mundi, la Città Eterna, Limen Apostolorum, la città dei sette colli, l'Urbe or, simply, **Rome**:

"Danger! Danger!" Bianchi Cinque panicked as the Command Center (known to the humans of this time as the Colosseum) around him shook to its foundations. "It's a big one! I know it! We'll all be destroyed!"

"(Calm down, Bianchi,)" urged his creator. "(It's Franca and Franco. They've escaped. And they're attacking the planet.)"

"Aye-yi-yi-yi-yi! What do we do?"

"(Teleport to us five overbearing and overemotional female humans.)"

"Oh, no... not that… not **gurlz**!"

"(It's 'girls', Bianchi Cinque.)"

"I was making a joke."

"(Oh. Well, carry on.)"

**  
**Triela muttered to herself. It was the moment she'd been waiting for all her young life. Her first literal small step into stardom as a model– literally, as the curtains ahead of her hid the catwalk leading to flashing cameras and ogling eyes. Greater things awaited her. But the lone thing she could consider was–

"Why **this**?"

She wasn't complaining about her extremely brief satin lingerie of a scarlet shade so sinful that the Vatican would instantly declare an unforgivable mortal sin the mere act of accidentally glancing at it out of the corner of one's eye. Not the pushup bra that gave her the appearance of having twice as much cleavage as she actually did, nor the bottoms that were mostly hibiscus-pattern mesh revealing a very large percentage of her buttocks.

Nor the two and a half feet of irresistible tubular sex that were her scarlet leather boots, their steel high heels furthest from comfortable– but, hey, sex isn't comfortable.

Not even the fact that she had been persuaded to wear her hair down, a luxury she allowed only in the confines of her apartment, her golden locks contrasting beautifully with her dusky skin.

No, she meant the bayoneted shotgun she needed to lug about the catwalk. It was a prop, a fake to be sure, but still a shotgun, and heavy as her manager's broad shoulders.

"What does this have to do with modeling?" Triela crossly demanded of herself.

_Well,_ she remembered the stutter of her sheepish manager– the big German was deliberately averting his eyes from her scantily-clad form, a state of near-undress that he was responsible for– _It makes you look **really **hot…_

_Stupid Victor…_

Shaking her pretty head at her stupid handler's taste in modeling props, Triela blindly strode right into the actual red haze she would never have differentiated from the mental one that oft clouded her mind and eyesight whenever her manager messed up again.

**  
**"Where's that hot new talent you were hyping?" demanded the furious Frederick Koch over the furor of a fashion show stalled.

"Yeah," Marc similarly complained. "I lined up for hours and paid good euros to get a front row seat! Bring her out now!"

The rest of the crowd roared out similar emotions. Forget a woman scorned. Hell hath no fury like fan boys frustrated from getting their promised fan service.

Victor Hartman grimaced. This was going to be a rough day.

**  
**Rico landed lightly on her feet, having just finished a superbly energetic gymnastics floor routine for her entry in the European Youth Olympics.

Two judges raised scorecards. Both gave her perfect scores.

The third judge happened to be Simon Cowell. He sternly signaled.

Minutes later, a horde of well-wishers and interviewers descended upon the rising star of Italian gymnastics. "Miss Rico!" one reporter asked aloud over the hubbub, "How does it feel to be hailed as the next Vanessa Ferrari?"

"And approved by Simon Cowell?" another added.

"Marry me!" a third proposed.

Not really knowing what to say, Rico gave them all a big beam.

"Miss Rico! Here!" Itinerant bellboy Emilio held the exit open for her.

"Thank you, 'Milio! I owe you one!"

The boy blushed.

Rico skittered out the back door and into a side alley. The pursuing paparazzi were a second too slow to catch the blue flash that briefly lit the dead end she'd entered.

**  
**Fleda Claes Johansson was so engrossed in the hardbound edition of Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace that she didn't notice the black (yet strangely friendly) energies that swirled about her.

"Noisy," the librarian girl muttered over the electronic murmur of her extraterrestrial abduction. "This is a library…"

**  
**"Danielle! Wait!"

Viola case in hand, the breathless Henrietta raced to catch up with her brisker younger sister. In her haste, she slipped on a smooth yellow spot on the sidewalk.

"Eee"

Hearing her sister shriek, Danielle looked over her shoulder in alarm. "Etta?"

Her klutzy oneechan was nowhere to be seen.

**  
**Multibillionaire heiress Angelina happily hummed to herself beneath her pink parasol as she strolled down the lane alongside her pet dog Perro.

On the street fifty feet behind her, her greedy father gripped the steering wheel of his brand new Bugatti Veyron 16 super car. If Angelina died, her entire fortune would go to him.

Angelina paused at a street crossing. Being a good girl, she paid very careful attention to the traffic lights **and** vehicles (but there was only one distant car that looked like the one her Daddy begged her to buy for him a week ago), made sure to firmly press the button activating the crosswalk signal, checked the device, looked left then right and then left again, and only then crossed.

Her father stomped on the gas. The second fastest car in the world swiftly closed in on its prey.

"Woof!"

Angelina started to look to her right as pink sparkles snatched her away.

Her father, gaping at the magical disappearance of his target, mistakenly kept his foot on the accelerator. The 400kph-capable Veyron fairly flew like the jet airplane it really was–

"Curse you, Richards!!"

–into a canal.

"CLOUSEAU!!"

**  
**Angelina was mystified. Just the moment ago, there had been a car looking almost like her Daddy's car, driven by an angry man who looked like her Daddy, coming straight at her. Now, she found herself inside a most strange place.

_Did I get hit by the car and die? Is this Heaven? But it looks like a video game arcade place… maybe Heaven is a video game arcade place?_

Perro yapped at a three-girl pileup and Rico, the last having agilely flitted out of the way of the toppled human dominoes. Topping the pile was a dazed Henrietta, dizzy swirls filling her eyes.

At the very bottom of the tangle, Claes looked up from her book and politely told the pretty brown face almost breathing into hers, "Can you **please** get off me?"

"I **would**," Triela muttered, succeeding only in unintentionally smearing her lightly-clad bosom over Claes' own, "If **someone** would get **off** me!"

"Uguu" was the unhelpful Etta's moan a la Ayu, she and Danielle just recently done with a marathon of **both** anime versions of Kanon.

"Are you all right?" Angelina and Rico both asked the dazed redhead. Rico further extended a helping hand.

"Thank you," Henrietta mumbled as she was pulled onto her feet.

"I'm Rico."

"H-Henrietta."

"I'm Angelina. You can call me Angie."

"And thank **you**!" Triela muttered aloud as she finally got off the highly-uncomfortable-looking Claes.

"Why are you naked?" Angelina innocently asked.

And only then Triela finally remember her current state of 'dress'. More or less squealing, she covered her front with her arms. "I am **not** naked!" she protested, her tanned cheeks taking on a pinkish tinge.

"Close enough to merit a cigar," Claes commented.

Triela shot her a poisonous look.

"Where are we?" Rico asked as she looked about her.

"Sugoi," Henrietta cooed at what appeared to be star maps embedded in the walls.

"There're so many lights," Angelina noted of a big glass globe that glowed a pure white.

A curious Claes let her fingers drift towards what appeared to be a control panel.

"No! No! Don't touch that!"

A middle-aged man rushed towards them.

Triela's brain instantly processed the solution to the equation "Herself Almost Naked plus Incoming Old Man" as the expert delivery of a butt stroke from her shotgun to his left temple.

"You killed him," a shocked Rico mumbled at the stunned man on the floor.

The man groaned.

"I will **now**," Triela grimly opined as she raised her weapon anew.

"No, wait!" pleaded the man. "Please don't kill me!"

Claes grabbed hold of the shotgun. (Grabbing Triela herself was liable to provoke a sexual harassment case.) "Calm down–" She paused. "What's your name?"

"Triela," was the growled answer.

"I'm Claes. Calm down, Triela. We need answers out of this man. Who are you?" she asked the man.

"I'm the android running this place…"

"He's a robot?" Rico asked.

"A super advanced robot," Henrietta suggested. "It's probably Japanese." Pause: "It's **definitely** Japanese.

"(Welcome, humans!)"

The girls spun around in time to see a giant bodiless head appear within a tunnel of light.

"Who are you?" Triela demanded.

"(I am Lorenzordon, an interdimensional being caught in a time warp.)"

"And I'm Bianchi Cinque," moaned the man on the floor.

"And what," Claes calmly asked Lorenzordon, "Are you planning with us?"

"(It's quite simple, my dear. This planet is under attack, and I have brought you here to save it.)

"Oh, yeah, right," Triela muttered.

"(Ah. A non-believer. Look behind you in the Viewing Globe. Your doubts will be answered in the images that you see.)"

They did. It was the globe that Angelina was perusing earlier. It resembled one of those orbs at a science festival that generated static electricity. Right now it showed weirdly-dressed people flying in the air.

"(This is Franca and Franco,)" Lorenzordon introduced. "(Intergalactic terrorist bombers bent on conquering the universe. With her henchmen and Padania Patrollers, they plan to conquer Earth.)"

Triela was up in arms over Franca's tastelessly-designed costume. "They have absolutely **no** fashion sense whatsoever…"

"And **you** have?" Claes remarked with a knowing glance at the flimsy excuse for clothing adorning the complainant.

"I would have you **know** that this is **very** expensive and top-of-the-line designer lingerie fit for world class modeling…"

"You're a model?" the awed Henrietta asked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"One **is** prone to thinking of another job that fits your current state," Claes began with a faint smile, her spectacles gleaming.

Triela glared bayonets at the implication.

"Please don't fight," Henrietta pleaded.

"So what does all of this have to do with us?" Rico asked.

"(You've been chosen to form an elite team to battle Franca and Franco. Each of you will be given access to extraordinary powers drawn from the being you call **Fratello**.)"

There was a long period of silence. "Fratello?" Triela finally cracked. "As in, '**brother**'?"

Odd rectangular devices appeared on their waist fronts. "(Behold!)" Lorenzordon proclaimed. "(The keys to your power!)"

"What are these?" Claes asked as she fingered her personal device.

Next to her, Triela was swearing at having a similar item affixed to the front of her crimson panties.

"(Those are your Gunslinger Morphers. When in danger, raise them to the sky calling the name of your Fratello. You will morph into a formidable fighting force known to all as the **Gunslinger Girls**.)"

"Morph?" Angelina asked.

"Metamorphosis," Claes absently answered. "It means to change."

"(As Gunslinger Girls, you will have access to a universe of power, and will command a fleet of fighting machines called **Fratellords**.)"

**  
Triela.** Bold and powerful. You will command the Hilshire Fratellord.

**Freda Claes Johansson**. You are clever and brave. You will command the Raballo Fratellord.

**Angelina**. Graceful and cute. The Marco Fratellord shall be yours.

**Rico**. Fearless and agile. You shall command the powerful Jean Fratellord.

**Henrietta**. Happy and kind. The Jose Fratellord will be under your command.

**  
**"(Observe the viewing globe)" Lorenzordon urged. "(Just as the five of your work together, so will your Fratello. If you need, you only have to turn to the power of the Fratellords, which will form the Mighty Mega Fratellord.)"

The resulting robot was… weird-looking, to say the least, the product of combining five giant human-looking robots into one even bigger human-looking robot. Even Henrietta, an avid anime fan, looked rather intimidated by the sheer ungainliness of their ultimate machine.

"Hell No," the definitely displeased Triela hissed.

"What about Perro?" Angelina suddenly asked Lorenzordon.

"(Hmmm?)"

"Perro is here, too." She gestured to her pet. The dog wagged its tail expectantly. "He should get powers, too," Angelina said.

"(Ah, Angelina, Perro's a **dog**. He can't be a Gunslinger Girl.)"

Angelina fixed Lorenzordon with pleading eyes. The interdimensional entity suddenly looked highly conscious.

"(Ah… um… give me a moment…)"

Lorenzordon blinked out of view. Minutes passed.

"I think you scared him," Rico guessed.

The alien appeared anew. "(Well, Angelina,)" he began. "(Perro **cannot** be a Gunslinger Girl…)"

Angelina's face fell. Lorenzordon felt his energy-state simulation heart suddenly strain as if he was about to implode.

"(… but we **can** give him powers so he can help you,)" he hurriedly added.

Angelina's face brightened at once. "Really? Oh, thank you, Lorenzordon!" she gushed, and clapped her hands together cutely, since she could not have hugged the disembodied head.

Lorenzordon suddenly felt much better. As if he had almost enough power to escape the time warp he was stuck in. "(Y-you're welcome, Angelina…)"

"This is ridiculous!" Triela declared. "You kidnap us, tell us Earth is under attack by aliens, and then make us into– into Gunslinger Girls." Her tongue rolled their title about as if it was poisonous. "All of this without our permission! What the hell do you think we are? **Dolls**?"

"(Well, no, not at all–)"

"Well, we **won't** stand for it. We have rights and dignities and free will. If you want people to fight for you, go get real soldiers!"

"(But Za Powah only resonates with young girls–)"

"Why don't **you** yourself fight?"

"(My dear, I'm stuck in a Time Warp. Franca trapped me here 10,000 years ago before I imprisoned her.)"

"Oh, great," Triela muttered. "We've been recruited by the side that **barely** won…"

"(Girls,)" Lorenzordon pleaded, "(I truly need your help. **Earth** needs your help.)"

"I'm a **model**!" Triela shot back. "I'm not some super assassin fighter! I'm a normal girl! Neither are any of the others!" She gestured. "And yet you're going to send us off to get killed just like that?"

"(There's no other choice. And I would send you only if you agree.)"

"Well, I **don't**." Triela glanced at the others.

"I'm sorry, Lorenzordon," Rico slowly said. "I'm a gymnast, an athlete. I'm not a fighter. I can't fight."

"I think this is cool," Henrietta began, "But I don't think I can bring myself to hurt anyone. And I don't want to get hurt myself…"

"Fighting is bad," Angelina established. "Can't we all get along over tea and cake?"

"Then it's settled." Triela nodded. "Let's get out of here. Or are you," she asked Lorenzordon, "Going to stop us? Make us do this against our will?"

"(No. You are free to go.)"

"Thanks. You might not be too smart," Triela allowed, "But you might not be too bad for an adult, either."

"(Thank you.)"

"You're not going out in just that, are you?" Rico asked.

The two blondes stared at Bianchi.

"(Lend her your coat, Bianchi,)" Lorenzordon ordered.

One sniff caused Triela to sniffle in disgust. "Phew. BO in an adroid. Isn't advanced alien technology just great?" But she kept the lab coat on.

"It's Japanese," Henrietta weakly repeated.

"I'm going to need a long shower after this… Claes? Are you coming?"

The dark-haired girl had locked eyes with Lorenzordon. "Yes," she reluctantly agreed.

The five girls filtered out of the Colosseum Command Center. "(May Za Powah protect you,)" Lorenzordon bid them.

"Well," Bianchi observed, "That didn't go very well, did it?"

"(I think they need more Conditioning,)" Lorenzordon agreed.

**  
** "Triela?"

"What?"

"Perhaps," Claes posed, "Lorenzordon is correct."

"Oh, don't get second thoughts now…"

"Think about it. If only we can use Za Powah– The Power," she corrected herself, "Then it stands to reason that **we** are responsible for that power, whether we like it or not.."

"Do you **want** to fight aliens so badly?"

"No. I believe strongly in the saying 'live and let live'. But these aliens apparently will not let us live in peace. It logically extends that I **must** fight. More so, **we** must fight. No one else can fight but us. No one else **will** fight."

"Cool," Henrietta cooed in admiration.

"Those are inspiring sentiments, Claes," Triela agreed. "But I'm sorry to say I'm not up to it. I don't think I can handle aliens attacking me right now–"

At that moment, gibbering blue-skinned aliens wearing blue shirts popped out of every nook and cranny to surround the five girls.

"Kyah!"

"What the?"

"Padania Patrollers!" Claes tersely identified as she and her companions were surrounded.

"Um," Rico tried in the friendliest tone she could summon, "We come in peace?"

The Patrollers attacked.

**  
**"Lorenzordon!"

"(I know, Bianchi. Unfortunately, we cannot help them right now. They must help themselves. They must summon Za Powah!)"

**  
**Triela thanked God that she was quite fit. Not as fit as that super athlete (_Rico? Hey, is she __**that**__ Rico?_) but sufficiently fit to dodge incoming gropers.

_This is as bad as dodging perverted fans!_

A blue hand caught hold of the edge of her borrowed lab coat. Swearing a blue streak, Triela then performed a very flexible motion that would have impressed Rico, allowing her to slip out of the lab coat and away from the Padania.

The Padania stared at the lab coat in its hands. It and its companions then stared at Triela. More specifically, at the flimsy wisps of satin that 'clad' her.

Nosebleeds knocked the aliens all out. (Oddly enough, their blood was red.)

Triela burned with embarrassment. "**Victor**… when I get my hands on you…"

**  
**Hiding from angry fans, Victor shivered. His bad feeling had just gotten worse.

**  
**Claes didn't try to dodge the Padania heading for her. After all, she still had War & Peace.

Padania howled as hands and feet broke upon the hardbound covers of Leo Tolstoy's masterpiece.

"Nothing can cut through War & Peace," Claes quietly commented.

**  
**Rico glanced about her. Padania came at her from all directions. She braced her legs and then jumped ten feet straight.

The onrushing Padania crashed into each other. Rico flipped herself so that her legs reached skywards and her arms grasped downwards. Strong hands vaulted her off the heap of stunned Padania and onto her feet once more. A rapid series of graceful cartwheels carried away from the action.

As Rico landed on her feet and stopped, the remaining Padania on their feet applauded and held up scorecards displaying **10**.

**  
**Henrietta ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Gibbering Padania chased her. "Someone help me!" she screeched.

**  
**Angelina's wide smile stopped the Padania Patrollers in their tracks. "Now, now, boys," she winsomely began, "Are we going to be unpleasant to each other?"

The Padania exchanged looks with each other. When they looked at Angelina again, she was still smiling.

One of them shrugged and gestured, No?

"Oh, that's good!" Angelina's smile brightened. "Then we can all be friends, right?"

The Padania found themselves all nodding and actually anticipating the idea.

"Why don't we talk this over tea and cakes?"

"What are you worthless nitwits doing?" Beldini yelled. "Kill her!"

The Padania gestured, But the cake!

"I'll turn **you** into cakes!"

The Padania looked anew at Angelina. Disappointment made her even smaller.

The Padania gulped and shook their heads in the negative.

Beldini roared. He pulled out a bomb that Franco and Franca gave him, and threw it at his recalcitrant goons' feet.

Angelina gasped in horror as the poor Padania Patrollers were blasted apart before her very eyes.

Beldini gave out crude barks of laughter. "The ends justify the means!" he crowed.

"That…"

The alien general blinked at the girl who emerged from behind her sheltering parasol.

"That wasn't very nice," Angelina hissed. "Perro!"

Her dog came to attention at once. Angelina extended her right arm. "Limit Break!" she ordered.

Incredibly, Perro hopped onto her arm and assumed a pose identical to that taken by the pointer breed of dogs when 'pointing' at a shot-down duck.

Even more outrageously, Angelina did not look like she was straining one bit carrying a dog that weighed almost as much as her on her arm.

"**Perro Cannon!"**

Perro rocketed from her arm and burrowed into Beldini's throat. "Augh!"

"I need clothes!" Triela demanded over the hubbub of Henrietta being chased by Padania. "Where can I get clothes?"

"(Morph,)" Lorenzordon suggested from the sky.

"What?"

"(Morphing grants you a battle costume.)"

"Does it cover my whole body?"

"(Yes.)"

Triela shivered with rage. "Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?" she demanded of the air.

"(I thought it was obvious.)"

The air around Triela turned a Five Republics shade of blue.

"(Everyone has to morph alongside you, by the way,)" Lorenzordon added.

"Fine! Everyone! We're morphing!"

Claes, just about done with helping Henrietta, smiled.

**  
"It's morphing time!"**

**  
** "RABALLO!" invoked Claes

"MARCO!" sang Angelina.

"JEAN!" declared Rico.

"JOSE!" cheered Henrietta.

"HILSHIRE!" snarled Triela.

All five girls suddenly found themselves wearing weird Spandex outfits and experienced urges to pose ridiculously.

"**MIGHTY MORPHING GUNSLINGER GIRLS!!"**

Behind them, a series of explosions, each blast the same color as the costume of the girl in front of it– red for Triela in the middle, black for Claes, Blue for Rico, yellow for Henrietta and pink for Angelica–, magnificently erupted.

"Fine," Triela grumpily allowed in the middle of her pose, basically a frozen version of the sexy catwalk stride she'd been practicing for the last few months. "I'll take the feel of looking stupid over the feel of being ogled any time of the day!"

Claes merely shrugged.

"This is really cute!" the 'human tee'-posed Rico commented happily.

"Ow," Henrietta mumbled. The explosion had startled her, causing her to fall on her face.

**  
**In the Command Center, Bianchi cheered. "Lorenzordon! They've done it! They've made the metamorphosis!"

"(Good! Teleport them to Piazza de Spagna!)"

**  
** "Time to save Rome," Triela declared as she came out of the teleport. A gloved finger stabbed at the Padania. "It's clobbering time!"

The resulting melee was completely one-sided. Triela viciously brought her shotgun's butt down on heads. Claes used the hardbound spine of War & Peace to inflict much the same damage. Rico pulled out a gymnastics exercise ribbon and tangled her opponents's legs in it. Henrietta flailed her arms about in self-defense; her attackers flew away from glancing hits. And Angelica kept siccing Perro on Beldini.

"Mercy! Have mercy on the weak!" Beldini pleaded over the mauling.

"You're a bad, bad man," Angelina stated. "You have to be punished!"

**  
**"Curse you, Gunslinger Girls!" Franca railed as her Patrollers received a drubbing greater than what a rabid Arsenal fan could expect to receive by accidentally straying into a Chelsea-exclusive bar. The Space Bomberess pulled out a pack of C4 from her frilly gown. "Franco! Detonators!"

Her husband dutifully stuck the triggers in.

"Magic Bomb! Make our Beldini grow!"

So saying, Franca hurled the bomb at Beldini's feet.

Perro ran off before the explosion turned Beldini into a huge version of himself. "Muwahahahahaha!" the giant alien rumbled.

"(Girls!)" Lorenzordon advised the five startled girls. "(You need to call upon the power of your Fratellords!)"

"Our… Fratellords?" Henrietta asked.

"(Yes! You must call out to them!)"

Triela grimaced. Claes frowned. Rico grinned sheepishly. Etta blushed gamely. Angelina nodded.

"Do we **have** to?" Triela finally demanded.

Giant Beldini shambled towards them in answer.

"Okay! Okay!" Muttering beneath her breath, Triela reached for the sky with her right hand. **"We need Fratellord Power! Now!"**

**  
**Simultaneously at various places in Italy:

The ground broke apart.

A glacier melted.

A desert glimmered.

A jungle steamed.

A volcano erupted.

Five suit-wearing titans raced alongside each other towards Giant Beldini. The girls performed prodigious jumps onto their respective Fratello and into their cockpits.

"Triela here. This is the lamest cockpit I've ever seen since I snored through reruns of the original Star Trek…"

"Claes, checking in… very quiet and cozy reading atmosphere here… I like it…"

"This is quite nice."

"Sugoi sugoi! Sutteki dayou ne, Jose-san?"

"Hello, Marco. I'm Angelina. It's nice to meet you."

"(Now,)" Lorenzordon advised. "(Combine your Fratellords to form the ultimate fighting machine!)"

Yatte yaruze! Gattai ikemasho!"

The other girls stared at the wildly-excited Henrietta's Jose Fratellord as if she had suddenly grown a second head.

"Well," the suddenly abashed brunette sheepishly explained, "All the sentai and the super robot pilots yell that when they're about to combine…"

"I think," Claes began with a slim smile, "That **Triela** should be yelling that."

Triela audibly choked. "The **hell** you say!" she refused.

But Etta nodded vigorously. "Oh, right! Sorry, Triela! You **are** Red Gunslinger!"

"No way am I yelling out something that **stupid** aloud!"

"(You **need** to do it in order to summon your Fratellords' ultimate power!)" Lorenzordon pointed out.

Triela began swearing in Italian, French, German and Dutch.

"What was that about a pig?" the curious Rico asked.

"**FINE!! Mega Fratellord Powah! ON!"**

"Form feet!" Henrietta reported.

"And legs!" Rico followed.

"Form arms!" Claes stated.

"And body!" Angelina crooned.

"And I'll form the head!" Triela growled in completion.

"**Go! Mighty Mega Fratellord!"** all five girls yelled as their giant robot rose to meet Giant Beldini.

"Where's Perro?" Angelina suddenly asked.

"Later!" Triela hotly advised as she parried Giant Beldini's attacks using Mega Fratellord's awesome arms. "Doesn't this thing have any weapons?"

"It's finishing attack is the Perro Sword," Claes read from her station.

"Perro!" Angelina exclaimed happily.

"Your **dog **is our finisher?" Triela demanded.

"But surely we have other attacks?" Henrietta asked. "I mean, all the super robots in the anime use their weak attacks first before using their special attacks!"

"This isn't anime! And I've had enough of this guy! Perro Sword!" Triela ordered. "Activate!"

A giant robot Perro appeared out of nowhere and clamped itself onto the Mega Fratellord's left arm. Its mouth opened to reveal the hilt of a sword. Triela grabbed the handle and pulled the weapon out of its mounting.

"This isn't over yet," Beldini swore as he teleported away.

"Coward!" Triela accused.

**  
**"I can't believe they **beat** us!" was Franca's shrill scream. "Beldini! You failed!"

"It won't happen again, Empress!"

"Shut up! I've got a headache!"

**  
**"(Congratulations on a job well done,)" Lorenzordon applauded the cheering girls in the Command Center. "(Now that you are Gunslinger Girls, you must follow three basic rules, or lose the protection of Za Powah. **First:** Never use your power for personal gain. **Second:** Never escalate a battle unless Rita forces you. And **finally: **Keep your identities secret. No one may know you are a Gunslinger Girl.)"

Triela had remained somber throughout the entire debriefing. "(What is it, Triela?)" Lorenzordon asked.

"I'm not sure we're up to this," the group's personal Doubting Thomas admitted. "I mean, we were lucky this time."

"(Luck had nothing to do with it. The five of you have come together to form as fine a team of superheroes as has ever been.)"

"Really?" Etta, Rico and Angelina chorused together. Triela just had to smile at the trio of cuteness.

"(You have been through extraordinary experiences together. You need each other now, and Earth needs you.)"

"All right," Triela mumbled in resignation. That ghost of a smile from earlier crossed her tanned face anew. "I'm in."

"Same," Claes forwarded.

"Yup yup," Rico agreed.

"Yatta!" Etta cheered.

"We'll stop them," Angelina promised. "We'll stop them."

**  
**Later that day…

The slumped Victor Hartman sighed deeply. _I've escaped raging fans and an alien invasion, only to lose my talent. I'm a horrible manager…_

"Victor?"

The burden on his shoulders and soul instantly disappeared. He shot to his feet and spun around. "Triela! Where had you been? I've been worried sick about you."

He froze.

Triela sported a carnivore grin. Her shotgun prop looked rather dangerous. So did the rest of her sweaty-sheen, more-or-less unclad body.

"I'd like to have a word with you about this costume of mine," she sweetly imposed.

Victor gulped.

**  
**"Claes?"

"This book got damaged. I'll repair it first before punching out."

"That's so like you. Okay. Make sure everything's locked before you leave, all right?"

"Yes, I will."

The door closed. Claes smiled. "Thank you," she told Tolstoy's masterwork.

**  
**Rico was fumbling for her keys when the locked door creaked open. "In here, quick," urged the doorkeeper.

Once she slipped inside, Emilio locked the door. "Welcome back, Miss Rico," he greeted her.

"Thanks, Milio. I owe you one again."

**  
**"Oneechan! The entire city was being attacked by aliens! And Miss Ferro was furious at you missing viola practice!" Danielle found her brainless older sister's flippancy all the more infuriating. "Where were you?"

"With my friends," Henrietta happily explained.

**  
**"Daddy? Are you okay?"

"Mrrrumphhh…"

"What happened to you?"

"Hrrrmmmpphhhh…"

"You worry me, you know. What would I do without you?"

"Urrmmmpphhh…"

"Well, take a good rest, okay?"

"Whhrrrmmmpphhh…"

Angelina left the room.

Perro stared at the mummified man who'd tried to kill his mistress. Then the dog glanced at the controls for the powered bed. A paw reached out to a big red button.

"Nnnrrrhhmpphhh!!"

* * *

**  
****To Be Continued**


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